… from the tree! Belkis went apple picking recently. As a result, this situation has been taunting me every single working hour for the past two weeks:
All day, every day, I sit right next to a steady supply of apples and peanut butter and a bunch of ladies who love this combo as much as I do:
My little seating area has gone through approximately 7 jars of peanut butter in the past two weeks.
And perhaps hundreds of apples.
In an effort to put a dent in her undentable apple supply, Belkis asked me if I knew how to make apple pie. I told her she had come to the right place, and she promptly handed over seven of her hard-earned jewels:
I warned her that my apple pie would not be traditional, and she gave me permission to put any spin on the dessert that I chose. I decided to go with my Apple Pie with Millet Crust, which I felt would be wholesome and hearty enough to bring as my offering for that Thursday’s department breakfast in honor of Mildred’s last day (tear :-().
The pie vanished. I was so excited to have supplied a healthy offering that my fried-food-and-cake-loving coworkers gobbled up 🙂
Here’s the rest of the table:
Highlights included fresh avocado:
Homemade whole wheat-oatmeal waffles with nutella, banana, and whipped cream (go Angela!!):
Just because I want to make your mouth water even more:
Jessica’s famous omelettes (said with a French accent, of course):
Here’s my first plate with Angela’s waffles, Belkis’ yuca and onions, my apple pie, strawberries and grapes from Rosey and Pansy, pancakes from McDonald’s via Deborah, Jessica’s omelet, avocado, and turkey sausage:
Aaaaaaaaaaand plate number two:
There were more plates, but who’s counting?
I did, however, have the foresight to save some of Belkis’ yuca masterpiece and bits of avocado for the next day’s lunch!
Also that Thursday, I finally made it to karate with the help of my coworker Erik, who is already a member. I started out brilliantly confident because the instructor made us run 15 laps around the gym. It was nothing for me, but all the boys were panting. (Side note: The class is ALL guys who are significantly bigger than I am, except for one kid who is approximately 11 years old whose dad put him in the class to toughen him up.) Then, I got selected to spar in the middle of the circle and got punched in the eye by accident. Next, I got sent into this space designed to simulate an elevator with Erik. Erik was supplied with a red marker intended to simulate a knife. He had to try to mark me up, and I had to try to defend myself. I may have left that drill covered in red marks. I would be so dead if I had really been stuck in an elevator with knife-toting guy. So, officially covered in bruises, I officially joined karate. As the instructor said, “Better you get hurt in here than out there!”
On the long subway ride back to Brooklyn from East Harlem, Erik helped dull the pain with these homemade alcohol-infused grapes that another grateful mom had gifted to him:
After one grape, the pain became a thing of the past. These could be dangerous!
Erik and I almost went back to karate on Friday night. But instead we walked through the prettiest part of Central Park:
And ate cheese and crackers:
Here’s the difference between boys and girls. Erik was responsible for the arrangement and photography of the above photo (of mind-numbingly delicious aged gouda with Carr’s rosemary crackers). I arranged the photo below:
Which would you rather eat???
I also stir-fried the rest of my CSA veggies (cabbage, green beans, and bell peppers) with the rest of Mildred’s arroz con gandules. Erik convinced me to put in the two whole jalapenos — seeds and stems included — that Dorothy had given me from her CSA, and I seasoned the whole thing with Emeril’s Essence seasoning. I topped it with baked firm sprouted tofu from Wildwood in a Country Bob’s glaze.
As delicious as this was, I could not take the insane heat from the jalapenos and their insides. I told Erik it was on him to eat it all since no food that I had cooked was going to end up in the trash. He accepted the challenge and valiantly powered through a full body sweat session to house the whole meal for lunch at work the following Monday.
Do your apples fall far from the tree? What’s your experience with physical combat? And how much heat can you take?